


spring in your step

by lemon_meringue



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Hand Jobs, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, i think this is the fewest tags ive ever used wow cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 19:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18184997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_meringue/pseuds/lemon_meringue
Summary: It's the first day of spring, so Tony and Peter are relaxing in a hammock outside.Well, Tony's relaxing. Peter's doing... other things.





	spring in your step

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the first day of spring.... i wrote porn
> 
> Sorry?
> 
> This is one of my shittiest fics so apologies, i promise i can do better (probably). Either way hope you don’t think this unbeta’d trash sucks too much ;)
> 
> (get it? I made a blowjob joke. ‘cause. ya know)
> 
> Also, I just saw Captain Marvel, and I gotta say: GOD IS A WOMAN AND HER NAME IS CAROL

In Tony's opinion, it's just a little bit too cold to be outside. That's not to say he's not enjoying it.    
  
There's no breeze at all, and it's probably close to 60 degrees Fahrenheit. The sun is out and shining on the hammock Tony's relaxing on,  and there's not a cloud in the sky.    
  
It's the very first day of spring, so naturally Peter had hauled him outside to experience it. The air smells the mud and grass and there's buds on all the trees, the bulbs of flowers stretching up, poking out of the ground.    
  
It's refreshing in a couple ways.    
  
A literal breath of fresh air from the previous week, jam-packed with meetings Pepper had insisted he attend, and a relief from the long months of winter past. Serene and peaceful, relaxing, but so _alive_ \-- the earth waking up. The light jacket and throw over blanket Tony has with him are enough to keep him at a perfectly pleasant temperature, the hammock is barely swaying (anchored to multiple trees around, it's honestly more of a small canopy than a topsy-turvy hammock), and Tony can close his eyes; feel all the tension leaving him.    
  
The beautiful boy bobbing his head on Tony's cock helps, too.    
  
Under the thin blanket, curled up between Tony's slightly splayed legs, Peter's mouth works up and down Tony's length. His tongue is smooth and hot and he's slowly taking more and more, getting Tony further into his mouth.    
  
One of the older man's hands cards through the boy's hair, feeling the soft curls with his fingers. He doesn't tug, but sometimes he takes a tuff of chestnut brown and tightens his fist around it, just to feel the way his hand becomes anchored to Peter's movements. He doesn't push, lets Peter move on his own.    
  
Soft sighs and low moans, content with the languid motion of the boy's efforts, fall from Tony's lips. His eyes are closed but he can feel the sun, angled somewhere from sinking into afternoon, warming his face.    
  
He can hear the vibrations of Peter's little whimpers, running up his cock. It sends shivers along Tony's spine and arms and he lets his head roll back a little. Peter's small hands brace against Tony's denim-clad thighs, his jeans and boxers only unzipped and pulled down enough to free his hard-on. He can feel the mix of his precome and Peter's saliva running down his shaft, leaking from the younger male's mouth. Slick heat envelopes his crotch, brewing in the pit of his stomach.    
  
He groans quietly as Peter takes him all the way down, the head of Tony's cock hitting the back of the boy's throat. Peter chokes on it, but doesn't back off, hollowing his cheeks and sucking a little harder.    
  
Tony imagines what he must look like, wonders if the undeniable tears in his eyes have spilled. Imagines how prettily he's blushing, that maybe his big doe eyes are closed as he concentrates. Thinks about how his lips must be gleaming with saliva and precome, his nose burrowed into the curls at the base of Tony's length.     
  
"Mmm, doing so good, babydoll," the man sighs, wetting his lips. He gets an appreciative hum in response, and the boy picks up the pace, bobbing faster. Tony's free hand finds its way to Peter's hair and joins the other, feeling and gripping the curls. It seems to spur on the smaller, because he swallows Tony all the way down again and sucks hard.   
  
Tony groans. Peter's mouth is so warm and smooth and wet, the way he's working his tongue under the man's length, the tip at the back of his throat-- it's intoxicating. Peter's hand leaves Tony's thigh and cups the billionaire's heavy balls, fondling them experimentally. Tony's grip tightens on the boy's hair, and he can't stop himself from bucking up slightly. He hears Peter gag, feeling the boy jerk back slightly. Tony loosens his hold instinctively, giving a wrecked kind of breathless chuckle.   
  
"Sorry sweetheart," he says. Peter responds by taking Tony all the way down again, moaning around the man's cock. The sensation takes Tony that much closer, and he lets himself fall lax to the feeling of Peter.    
  
The boy works Tony's cock like he's made for it, enveloping Tony in pressure and slick warmth. It's heavenly and hot as fuck. The man's breathing picks up, his heart beating out of his chest. He can hear his pulse in his ears and his stomach grows tighter and tighter, orgasm growing.    
  
He thinks of how Peter looks choking on his dick, and the image sends him over the edge. The threatening tension explodes inside him. His body goes rigid as he comes, groaning deep and low and almost distressed with pleasure, emptying his load into Peter’s mouth. The boy takes it well; Tony can feel where some of his come escapes the younger male’s lips, but for the most part, Peter swallows it all. He milks Tony’s climax to the last drop. While the billionaire finally relaxes his body, melting into the hammock and trying to catch his breath, Peter pulls off with a lewd ‘pop’ that the older man can hear despite the blanket. Then the boy begins to tenderly lick and kiss the remains of come and saliva off of Tony’s spent cock until he’s clean. As Peter shuffles back up, Tony fixes his pants, moving slow. There’s no rush, no pressure. Just easing out of the thrill and intensity of his orgasm, feeling warm and content and kind of giddy. Having his cock sucked by Peter tends to have that effect. 

 

Eventually, Peter’s fluffy hair breaks out from under the blanket, followed by his happy face. His cheeks are flushed and eyes a little puffy and shiny, and his lips are red. As if he didn’t look a vision already, he’s smiling the most gentle smile, looking at Tony and biting his bottom lip. 

 

“How was that?” He asks sincerely, laying his head on Tony’s chest. Tony chuckles lightly, wrapping one arm around the boy’s back and up so he can massage the base of his hair on the back of his neck. Peter’s windbreaker crinkles over his hoodie as Tony holds him tighter, and something about the way his arm indents so far through the layers of clothes, exaggerating how _small_  Peter is, it makes him feel a sense of possessiveness and protectiveness both. 

 

“So good, angel. That was amazing, perfect boy,” Tony whispers to him, kissing the top of his head. Peter preens at the praise, nuzzling his face further against Tony’s jacket. 

 

With his free hand, Tony corrects the blanket around them, pulling it up more to make sure it covers Peter’s shoulders. He cuddles the boy close, basking in the feeling. The refreshing spring smell with the serenity of his orgasm, and the ethereal comfort of having his boy snuggled against him; Tony hasn’t felt this content or relaxed in too long. 

 

They lay there together for a while, Tony’s not sure how much time exactly, before he shifts around. Adjusting comfort. However, in his innocent shuffle of re-arrangement, he puts his thigh between Peter’s legs. Right up against his crotch. 

 

Peter’s hard. Very hard. 

 

Tony smiles to himself, pressing his leg up just enough until Peter whimpers quietly. His free hand moves under the blanket and down, following the path of fabric to Peter’s middle. He fingers with the waistband of the boy’s joggers for a while, before slipping his hand under. The billionaire cups Peter’s crotch through his boxers, fondling him through the silk, reveling in the hushed, high moans that slip from the boy’s mouth. He glances down to see the younger burying his face in Tony’s jacket, his eyes closed tight, lips parted. He’s beautiful, Tony thinks, absolutely beautiful. 

 

He continues to tease Peter’s hard-on from outside his boxers for a while, ages longer than Peter would have liked but no more than five minutes in reality. Then Tony slips his hand under the underwear, too. He moves slow and light, the pads of his fingers ghosting up Peter’s shaft until he comes to the head. He swipes his middle finger across Peter’s slit a couple times, coercing his little cock to produce even more precome than is already making his boxers damp. 

 

Peter’s little gasps and bucks of his hips are precious, the sweet thing so sensitive and responsive. Tony loves it, loves it so much. It’s easy to tease and overwhelm Peter, which the mechanic shamelessly gets off on, but it also makes pleasing the boy that much more rewarding. 

 

So he gives a few loose, slow pumps of Peter’s no doubt aching cock and toys with his tip, repeating his actions, alternating, smearing the constant dribbles of slick and easing the glide of his touch. Peter whimpers and moans the prettiest sounds, squirming against the older man’s body, silently begging for more. Tony, the devil he is, takes his dear sweet time. 

 

His motions are gentle, his touch soft and (agonizingly) slow. He moves with a leisurely attitude, letting his mind wander and his consciousness drift in and out. He doesn’t stop, though. Never stops. Continues with his tortuously mild actions, making Peter shiver and whither against him. At some point he thinks the boy starts crying, just small tears of overwhelming pleasure that’s painfully not enough being squeezed out of his eyes. Tony waits until Peter finally gives in and asks for it. 

 

“Tony…” he says, trying not to whine, though it doesn’t work very well. Tony doesn’t mind. Kind of likes it. 

 

“Yes, baby?” He responds, with an air of casual relaxation that contrasts dramatically to how hot and bothered Peter is. He pumps Peter harder, faster, only for a few seconds. The boy’s hips jerk and he groans when Tony immediately returns to his sedate movements.

 

“I, I-I need-” he cuts himself off, fisting Tony’s jacket and shaking with the self control he must be using not to jump the older man right then and there. “P-please, please,” He begs, and shit, Tony couldn’t say no to that if he wanted to. 

 

“Shh, precious boy. I’ve got you,” He promises, and kisses Peter’s hair. He decides he’s prolonged it long enough, and picks up the pace. His hand moves quickly, tightening ever so slightly. Peter’s moans go sharper, a little louder, a little higher. He humps into Tony’s hand as the man jerks him off, building the pace faster and faster. He watches Peter’s chest race and loves the way his face turns pink. The boy bites his lip, and Tony wants it to be his tongue and teeth worrying the boy’s sweet mouth, so he tells himself to kiss the smaller male later. 

 

Peter tries to let out some incoherent warnings, but they’re cut off and unsuccessful. Tony understands him nonetheless, and grips the hair on the back of Peter’s neck, the hand pleasuring his boy flicking at the wrist to draw out a mewel from the younger. 

 

“Come on, baby boy. Come for me,” Tony nearly growls. His voice is husky and low in Peter’s ear, and he sees the goosebumps on the boy’s skin. And then Peter’s tensing up against him, babbling something, and hiding his face entirely in Tony’s jacket. He comes with a cry; a needy, pretty sound, after yelping Tony’s name. White hot release covers the mechanic’s hand and soaks the boy’s boxers, but they can’t be bothered about it. Tony makes sure to work him through it and eventually Peter comes down from his orgasm high with soft sighs and whimpers. 

 

The boy adjusts his position after Tony removes his hand, no doubt trying to find some way he can lay for the foreseeable future without feeling the squelch and wetness of his come in his underwear. Tony carefully brings his hand away, making sure not to get any come on their clothes or the blanket. He waits for the boy to get situated and look up at him with that adorable face, eyes hooded in a sleepy way and smiling like an angel. Once they lock eyes, though, Tony licks the come off his palm and fingers. He preens at the way Peter swallows hard, Tony’s eyes tracing the motion while Peter’s locked on the way the older man’s tongue clears pearly white away. 

 

Tony smirks at his lover when he’s finished, and then tips the boy’s chin up, kissing his forehead. Peter sighs in content, turning his face into the hand that cups his cheek and kissing the palm. 

 

They adjust to lay in each others arms more comfortably, Tony resting his chin on Peter’s head, Peter dozing off on the man’s chest. Things feel new and good and positively tranquil, and with the post-orgasm warmth of his lovely boy curdled up against him, Tony decides that the late March chill doesn’t really bother him after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Big Oof, sorry about the quality? My writing’s weird today, oops. Thanks lots for reading babes <3


End file.
